


Anne Catches a Glimpse of True Passion at Bolingbroke

by PhoenixSongFalling



Category: Anne of Green Gables - L. M. Montgomery
Genre: F/F, Lesbian Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-08
Updated: 2017-08-08
Packaged: 2018-12-12 19:44:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,460
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11743875
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PhoenixSongFalling/pseuds/PhoenixSongFalling
Summary: Soon after Anne refuses Gilbert Blythe, she shares an enlightening evening with her dearest friend, Philippa Gordon. Could their relationship ever become more?





	Anne Catches a Glimpse of True Passion at Bolingbroke

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Large sections of italics = actual scenes from the text.
> 
> This is the first fanfic I’ve actually managed to post anywhere in about nine years. Comments welcome!

**Patty’s Place—Just before summer break**

Anne lifted her heavy head off of her pillow, feeling woozy after an afternoon of crying. At first, she couldn’t quite make out Philippa Gordon’s figure through the dark and her shining tears.

“Oh, Queen Anne, what’s the matter?” gasped Phil with no lack of surprise.

“I…It’s Gilbert.” Anne sniffled. “He’s ruined everything!”

Phil stiffened. She had known this day would come. “So, he finally proposed?”

“What do you mean _finally_ , Phil?”

_"I suppose you’ve gone and refused Gilbert Blythe. You are an idiot, Anne Shirley.”_

_“Do you call it idiotic to refuse to marry a man I don’t love?” said Anne coldly, goaded to reply._

_“You don’t know love when you see it. You’ve tricked something out with your imagination that you think love, and you expect the real thing to look like that. There, that’s the first sensible thing I’ve ever said in my life. I wonder how I managed it?”_

Phil gave Anne one last, aching glance, and stormed off to her room. Anne did not know what to make of Philippa’s outburst. Had they not become such intimate friends?

 “I hope she calms down by the time we arrive at Bolingbroke,” Anne whispered softly to herself before collapsing into tears again.

 ~~~~

  **The Beaux of Bolingbroke**

Being again surrounded by so many admirers had brightened Phil’s mood dramatically. But though she said nothing about their quarrel or Gilbert Blythe, she acted much more coldly and stiffly around Anne than usual. Still, the days were pleasant enough. And here and there in a brief touch or glance, Anne was sure she wasn’t imagining the old spark of friendship rekindling between her and her dearest Phil. In fact, within a few days, they were snuggling companionably in bed again.

On the very last morning before her departure to Avonlea, Phil accompanied Anne to see the childhood home she had shared with her parents before their deaths. Learning of the love they had had for her filled Anne’s heart to the brim, and she couldn’t help but to keep Phil’s hand firmly grasped in her own as she worked through the roiling emotions of the day.

All that evening, Anne walked around in a thick, joyous haze, almost able to see her mother before her, crowned in a golden halo and cloaked in white, shining her light of heavenly love and approval on Anne.

The spell was only broken when Anne drank in the sight of Phil’s chestnut locks tumbling down her cream nightclothes as she readied herself for bed. Phil’s hair was silky smooth and let off a light fragrance of lavender. And in the dim firelight, the dark tresses set off the pink of Phil’s lips in a most alluring fashion. Anne sighed, enjoying Phil’s easy beauty. She felt a warmth, too—in her core. A slight fluttering of her heart as Phil settled in beside her.

Anne was keenly aware of Phil’s delicate, clean scent, her warmth, and, she realized, the shape of her breasts as they rested against her back. Anne felt a thrill jolt through her entire body.

“Oh, Phil, thank you for your gift today! I’m not sure I could have visited that old house without you!” Anne blurted out, suddenly very aware of her feelings.

She’d made such a fuss about the perfect romance. She’d been so picky. It had to be the perfect man: tall, dark, handsome, and slightly irascible. (No doubt, Jane Austen had a lot to do with this.) This perfect male specimen would speak to her always in perfect sonnets, and she would be perfect because of him.

She knew now he’d been a cover—a nice little fairy tale about nice little Anne. But reading her parents’ love letters, prosaic as they had been, had opened Anne’s eyes to her true pangs of longing. She now knew it was Philippa she had been courting, and not some impossible—perfect but impossible—fantasy.

“It was worth it to see you so happy, Queen Anne,” Phil nearly purred, her lips almost touching Anne’s ear. Phil fondled a stray wisp of Anne’s hair at the base of her neck, and Anne shivered at the touch, the heat in her core traveling straight to her clit.

“Ah!” she gasped helplessly.

“Is something the matter?” Phil queried.

Anne gulped. “No. No, I just….” She paused.

“You just feel it too,” Phil supplied.

“Y…Yes,” Anne croaked.

Phil slowly ran her fingers from Anne’s neck to her collar bone to her chest, finally using them to delicately caress Anne’s erect nipple.

“Mm…” both women moaned at once.

Phil continued to stroke Anne’s breast while Anne arched her back to, needing to touch as much of Phil’s body as possible.

When Anne couldn’t stand it anymore, she abruptly turned her body toward Philippa and took her face in hand, admiring her dark chocolate eyes.

“Phil,” Anne breathed.

“Yes, Anne.”

“I didn’t know.” Anne faltered.

“I did,” Phil said, and then touched Anne’s lips with hers.

They gasped at the spark of electricity they both felt.

Anne found that she was voracious, and crushed her mouth to Phil’s, needing to taste her fully, deeply.

Heavy panting and soft moans rose from that four-poster bed at Bolingbroke as the women hungrily removed each other’s clothing. Dozens of sleepless nights fuelled by just this fantasy soon found fingers on clits, rhythmically circling as both women began to arc their hips in time to each other and their need.

Anne bent her head, and took one of Phil’s large, brown nipples into her mouth, enjoying the heft of Phil’s breast with her other hand. At this, Phil paused in her ministrations and moaned loudly.

Both women stopped abruptly, looking a bit guiltily around the room. When no one came to investigate, both laughed shyly.

Philippa then gave Anne a wicked glance, pushed her delicate body to the bed, and began to trail kisses down her abdomen. Phil kissed the inside of first one thigh, then, with deliberate slowness, the other, causing Anne to buck her hips with impatience. When Phil finally swiped Anne’s clit with a light flick of her tongue, Anne was sure she’d tasted heaven for the first time. Phil continued, applying more and more pressure while Anne clasped the sheets in her fists. As the heat built, and Anne began to moan louder and louder, Phil took her clit entirely into her mouth and sucked. Anne’s eyes shot open at the new sensation, and within moments a wave of pleasure crashed over her. Anne keened and her body shuddered uncontrollably as she came. Phil hummed with delighted laughter against her, before rising to kiss Anne slowly, languorously.

Anne lay there, catching her breath, longing to know Philippa’s taste.

Soon, their positions were reversed, and Anne touched her lips to Phil’s clitoris for the first time. Phil’s slightly salty, slightly sweet tang reminded Anne of rising bread or freshly-churned butter, and she knew that her fantasies could never have lived up to this.

As she circled Phil’s clitoris with her tongue, she peeked up at her face, only to find Phil’s dark eyes focused on her own grey ones—hazy but intent. Anne moaned with excitement, and moved two fingers to Phil’s entrance, placing just a bit of light pressure there, just the way she liked it when she touched herself. Phil was so wet, it caused Anne’s own clit to twinge with new arousal. As Anne inched her fingers in further, Phil bucked towards her mouth.

“Anne…please,” Phil begged.

Anne gave in, caressing Phil’s most sensitive spot with a tender “come hither” motion, increasing the pressure on Phil’s clitoris as her vagina began to spasm around her fingers, followed by Phil’s helpless groaning.

Anne smiled. This was so much better than some Mr. Darcy type spouting sonnets.

After the two women had lain, spent, in each other’s arms for a while, fear and concern knitted Anne’s brow once more.

“Phil?”

“Hm?”

“Why were you so angry when you found out I’d refused Gilbert?”

Phil sighed. “Oh, Anne, I’ve been such a ninny. I’ve been terrified of Gilbert’s proposal for weeks—terrified you’d say yes, proving you could never care for me. Terrified you’d say no, and find some other silly boy. Or worse, I’d have to admit my feelings to you. You know me. I just couldn’t decide which was worse!”

Anne took in Phil’s scrunched expression and giggled. “You goose!” she cried. “You could have just let me know how you felt!”

“Queen Anne,” Phil then declared, quite seriously, “I love you and I want us to be together!”

Anne laughed gaily, and snuggled up to Phil again, happier than she’d ever been before, she was certain.

 

 


End file.
